


Crashed in Paradise

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Cute Jack Kline, Family Fluff, Gen, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Jack being Jack, Minor Violence, Protective Sam Winchester, Survival, Team Feels, tfwbigbang2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Eight unrelated people, who happen to board the same plane heading back to the States. Before the flight, they knew nothing about each other, but when the plane crashes somewhere over the Atlantic, they have very little choice but to work as a group to survive. Unfortunately, surviving the crash isn't the biggest challenge the group will face, when one of the group turns out to be working against them.
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22
Collections: Team Free Will Big Bang: Collection 2020





	Crashed in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> My entry to Team Free Will Big Bang!
> 
> [A big thanks to my Beta, Monique, check her out on twitter!](https://twitter.com/betalatethnnvr?s=09)
> 
> [Check out Casquecest's Artwork here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26595949)

‘Nervous flyer?’ The air hostess inquired sympathetically, while Dean Winchester responded with a grunt, clutching the arms of the chair in a grip that might save him from the flying metal box he was stuck in. Flying was never his idea of fun, but he needed to get back in time for his Father’s birthday, and the flight had been a lot quicker than the two-week boat-ride it had taken to get to Europe. It made sense that the entire thing would be terrifying, the prospect of being in the sky was utterly unnatural for a human, why would anyone enjoy such a thing?

Still, he gave the air hostess a brief smile when she brought him a whiskey, there was no way that his fear of flying would stop him from giving a pretty lady the attention she deserved. It had been a miserable start, with his seat being taken by the idiotic prick that had claimed he needed the window seat. Dean had thought it might help, yet the dick had adamantly said he was in need of it, and he wasn’t in the mood for a fight.

Didn’t stop him from staring across at the greying hair, clean shaven man that no doubt was away on a business trip, probably having an affair on a lovely woman who deserved better than some douchebag. The thought entertained him, even relaxed some of the nerves, possibly aided by the whiskey that burnt the back of his throat.

Seat 42C, the back of the plane, and it gave him the benefit of being able to look down the aisle to the others. Separating him and the douche that stole his seat, an elderly woman that was knitting; Dean had been polite enough to let her use his under-seat storage for her bag, considering her knitting was taking up most of the space. They had spoken briefly, the shared interest of both being on the same plane, but aside from that, it had been relatively silent.

Entertained by the game of guessing why people were here, Dean looked around. He wasn’t seated in the back row, a couple of people sat behind him, but none of them were that interesting. His eyes did wander over a young teen, two rows in front, with two men in suits on either side. The son of a politician? But why would he be seated in the economy class?

Some other interesting people included a woman with a baby that had been blissfully quiet, and an older man that looked a lot like his Uncle Bobby. The thought of his family drove him to the reason he was up in the sky, his father’s birthday. He had been travelling Europe, taking a break from the family business to see the sights that the other side of the world held. His work back home, a mechanic that specialized in vintage cars, was his passion.

He had to admit, he was looking forward to seeing his Mom again. He was an only child, except the child that his Mom had put up for adoption when he was only four-years-old, unable to raise two children with her job as a Nurse. Then there were Bobby and Ellen, his Uncle and Aunt, as well as his cousin Jo and her fiancée, Charlie, who he had grown up with, and couldn’t wait to see again. Provided he survived this journey, of course.

The plane rattled slightly, a jump that had Dean remembering where he was, draining the rest of the whiskey and gripping the seat again. Not even the clacking of the needles was enough to calm him this time.

**

The idea of flying economy had not been his own. Castiel Novak did not doubt he had been placed in this seat on purpose, as a reminder that his Father was less than pleased with his recent efforts to secure a business deal. The man sighed, nursing the beer can that held the last drops of his sanity. It hadn't been an easy job to complete in the first place, he knew very little about the venture that his father had been hoping to secure, and the clients were… frustrating.

It didn’t help that it should have been his brother, Raphael, on the plane. It had been a last-minute swap, and Castiel had ended up in Egypt with little more than a briefcase and a spare set of clothes. He was supposed to sign-off on a multi-million partnership that would have absorbed yet another small business into the Novak Enterprises.

To make things worse, the flight had taken him to Europe before bringing him back to the States. Now, with an eight-hour flight that would take him from Paris back to his home country, Castiel could plan what he was going to tell his father. His father, Chuck, wasn’t a scary man. He didn’t get angry, but he did have a look that screamed disappointment. The youngest wasn’t used to it being aimed at him, more often than not it was the second-eldest, Gabriel, that was under scrutiny.

He’d only just had time to send a text message to his father to let him know they were on the flight, before he’d boarded the plane. Seat 43E was in the middle of two people who hadn't bothered to speak to him, nor were very interesting in general. It had been four hours since they’d left Paris, and he was already bored. To occupy the time, he had taken to listening to the chatter of people around.

The air hostess, a young woman who could be no older than mid-twenties, was his main source of entertainment. A persistent man had been attempting to get her attention and she was clearly not interested. This was evident when she “accidentally” spilt hot coffee all over his lap. This was amusing to not only him, but a clearly nervous man on the other side of the plane, a row in front. Castiel had not missed the whiskey that the hostess had slipped him, but it seemed to have done little to stave off the nerves.

The plane jolted, and Castiel wondered how the air hostess managed to keep on her feet. She moved out of the way of another lady, a woman with a tough face and a no-nonsense stare, that walked towards the back of the plane quickly. Apart from that little bit of entertainment, there seemed to be very little excitement. He looked to both his neighbours, then settled back in the chair and wondered how he was supposed to manage another four hours of staying in the same seat.

Deciding that the easiest thing was to go to the toilet, that could alleviate some boredom, he unclipped his belt. The resident of the aisle seat didn’t bother to stand, just shut the tray as Castiel awkwardly clambered over him. With the trolley no longer blocking the aisle, he made it to the back of the plane and found the toilet unoccupied. Odd, before he noticed the air hostess and the other lady in deep conversation. When they caught him staring, he quickly slipped into the cubicle, feeling slightly guilty for lingering.

The break did not last long enough, and he eventually had to walk back to his seat, taking note of the people behind him as he passed by. Three men, two of whom looked thoroughly disinterested in the flight. The one in the middle, a businessman if Castiel had to take a guess, had a jacket in his lap which hid his hands. Castiel wasn’t going to stand around, slipping back into his seat and fastening his seatbelt.

He was followed shortly by the air hostess, who was moving to the front of the plane. The other woman returned to her seat, and Castiel reached for one of the magazines, trying not to think about how many germs might be on them.

**

Jack had never felt so small, not until he was boxed in between two men that clearly had better things to be doing than babysitting him. He had tried to protest, had stated that the last thing he needed was an escort, but he supposed it was what happened when you were born into a family like his. It wasn’t his fault, yet somehow, he was the one suffering because of it.

The two Guards on either side didn’t speak, occasionally sharing glances with each other, but that was about it. They refused to converse with him, not only on the matter of his father, but anything Jack offered as a talking point. It was beyond painful, the air hostess offering sympathetic smiles every time she walked past.

He was being flown into the States to be put into some home for children that had no parents. Except, he did have a parent, an alive one, who had sent him to America in the first place. Evidently, Jack wasn’t really the son that Lucian Milton had wanted, and when Jack’s Aunt died, it had been his house that he had been taken to.

Not that Jack felt any loyalty to the man he was supposed to call Father. He was nothing more than a crook, a man that cheated others to make a living. Jack wanted no part in such a thing, and was viewing America as his new start. His mother had visited England frequently, according to the video-tapes she had left him in case anything happened during the pregnancy. America had been her home, hence the system adopting him back.

There was a lady in the row across from him, and although she had a tough face, she did offer him a smile any time she caught him staring. He was a curious soul. He had been raised by his Aunt for fifteen years until her death. Apart from that, he had very little social experience, hence his inquisitive nature towards the passengers. Home-schooled, funded for by the father he had only met once, a miserable existence with very little external interaction.

A couple of rows behind him, he could hear the clicking sound of knitting needles. The rhythmic sound was comforting, and although he had never flown on a plane before, it wasn’t as scary as he first predicted. In fact, it was sort of disappointing, the entire thing was rather anticlimactic. Still, America was bound to be exciting, and that was what kept him buzzing despite the long flight.

In the row behind, the man on the aisle-seat seemed to be interacting with the air hostess, who seemed less than pleased with his forward advances. Jack watched, mostly curious about how the two interacted, until the woman tipped hot coffee onto his lap. From the jerk the man gave, it must have been painful, yet nobody seemed too upset by this. In fact, most of the people around looked pleased, especially the lady in the row opposite. She gave him a wink, settled back into her chair, and Jack was startled when one of the guards spoke.

‘Eyes front, kid.’ He did as he was told, wondered if all human interactions were this complicated. If so, he had a lot to learn.

**

Sam Campbell was tired of this flight. He’d only been on it for four hours, but he was already starting to regret the decision to fly back to the States. It didn’t help that he was running on caffeine, and the man beside him wouldn’t stop sneezing. He’d seen many things in his nine years in the army, had dealt with the most annoying people he’d ever met, but the man beside him was one of the worst. The sneezing was followed by muttered apologies, a handkerchief that had seen better days, and the constant chatter from the couple in front.

The man across from him, on the other side of the isle, had not yet learned that the Air hostess wasn’t interested in him. His desperate attempts at getting her attention was entertaining enough, but made even better when she poured hot coffee over him. He might have even asked for a cup, but he knew where the water came from on these planes, and wasn’t down for the germs. He was getting enough of those from his neighbour.

Now, something that was intriguing him, was the lady in front and to the left. She sat beside the chatty couple, but from the way she kept glancing around, there was something different about her. That, combined with the way the Air hostess kept glancing at her, meant it didn’t take him long to figure it out, leading him to the first inkling that something was wrong.

The woman moved to the back, and Sam briefly glanced over his shoulder to watch her walk. It couldn’t be good news, so he smoothly did his belt back up, then looked to the man still cleaning coffee off of his trousers.

A blue-eyed man moved to the toilet, perhaps noticed that the two women were at the back chatting. The plane shuddered again, and Sam, never one to fear flights, found his hands tensing on his thighs. It wasn’t the fear of the plane, he had been in worse aircraft than this. It had never been the fear of flying, it was the thing that came after. The falling was what everybody feared. The man returned from the restroom, making it to his seat, as did the woman in front, and Sam could tell that something was going to happen.

So, when the nose-dive began, he wasn’t as surprised as he should have been.

**

One moment Dean had been screaming, or at least he’d been trying to, but the air had been sucked from his lungs. He couldn’t think, everything had been falling, and people had been begging for their lives. He vaguely registered his hands grappling for the oxygen masks that had fallen, managed to get one around his head and then, well, he didn’t remember much.

When his eyes finally opened again, it was to a vague, blurry mess. His chest hurt, his body felt like he’d gone three rounds with his ex-marine Dad in hand-to-hand combat, and his head was telling him that something was very wrong.

Then a set of eyes came into view. They were stunning, a mix of green, hazel and blue, and they focused on him. A pair of plush lips came with the eyes, moving, and Dean strained to listen to what they were saying.

‘Hey, that’s it, can you hear me?’ The voice was a man’s, not that Dean was picky. He moved his right hand, released the death grip and tried to reach for the mask, when hands closed over his. The mask was removed, fingers pressing to the side of his neck, and he opened his mouth to speak.

That was a mistake. The second he did so, he breathed in a lungful of ash, smoke and dust. Coughing it up seemed like the only option, and a hand landed on his shoulder to steady him. The belt was ripped away, Dean beginning to regain his sense of hearing properly. The man was speaking, reassuring him that he was fine, but they did need to begin to move, and could he feel all his limbs?

Dean listened, tested his strength by attempting to stand.

‘I’m… I’m good.’ He shrugged off the hands, looked around in the vague hope of understanding why he felt like he’d gone through hell. And then, his brain clicked everything into place.

The lady next to him, the one that had been polite enough to make conversation, had a knitting needle straight through her chest. It wasn’t her only injury, but it was the one he concentrated on. The man next to her, in the window seat that should have been Dean’s, was in a worse condition. A metal bar was going through his abdomen and into the chair, and that was enough to sober Dean up.

The plane had been ripped apart. No more than about eight rows survived, the rest was completely gone, into the bright light that Dean still couldn’t blink away.

‘Get the kid.’ The man, the hunk of muscle in front of him, ordered. Dean blindly stumbled, was caught by those big hands, then realised who he was gesturing to. A boy, couldn’t be any older than sixteen, awake and eyes darting between the two dead men either side. Dean, driven by the adrenaline that he figured was from the plane falling from the sky, reached past the first man and to the kid.

‘Hey kid, can you hear me?’ He figured, if the soot and ash were gone, the boy might be blond, or brunet. Instead, he was a mess, a cut that ran along his forehead but didn’t appear too deep. Dean helped him out, the belt having broken, the kid clutching at him like a lifeline. They made it out into the aisle where a woman had just about gotten to her feet. Together the three of them stumbled out of the plane.

It was hot. Dean dragged himself and the boy across the rubble, until his feet hit grass. There were trees, not ones he recognised, but that didn’t matter. He slowly lowered the kid, then quickly followed, slumping down onto the ground like it was his salvation.

The plane was on fire. A deep trench ran across the ground where it must have landed. There was a mess of metal, plastic and fabrics, most of which had flames engulfing it, although some of the luggage cases were littering the clearing. It took Dean a moment to understand the gravity of what had just happened, that they had hit the ground in a plane, and suddenly his fear of flying seemed laughable.

He was alive. And, from the looks of it, that was something to be proud of. The woman that had come out with them looked slightly bruised, a nasty cut along her collarbone, favouring her right leg, but otherwise unharmed.

The tall man reappeared, this time with some others. A blue-eyed man, clutching a briefcase like it was a lifeline. Another teen, shaking like a leaf. A man in a suit, with eyes that darted around, cradling his wrists like they hurt. Finally, a woman that he was carrying, who by far appeared the worst of them. She wasn’t conscious, but from the fact he had pulled her from the wreckage, she had to be alive.

‘Anyone here know first aid?’ The tall stranger asked, and Dean recognised the woman to be the air hostess. Her stomach was dark red, and when the teen boy, the one Dean hadn't rescued, raised his hand hesitantly, Dean began to thank whoever was listening for this miracle.

**

Castiel wasn’t sure why his grip on the briefcase wouldn’t release, but he didn’t think it was the biggest concern. There was a group of them, and Castiel recognised most of them from the flight. There was the nervous flyer, who was currently supporting the head of the air hostess, while the larger man barked orders. Well, medical advice, while the boy had his hands over the wound.

‘How it going?’ Nervous-man asked, looking to the boy.

‘I wish I wasn’t pre-med.’ Castiel could have laughed, the boy was a student, but this wasn’t a funny situation. Strangely, it was the taller man that comforted him, placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring smile.

‘You’re doing great, Kevin, just hold on a little bit.’ How the man already knew somebody’s name, Castiel didn’t know. He also didn’t miss the way that nervous-man’s gaze moved to the taller man, a look that Castiel was pretty sure he was mirroring.

‘Are either of you injured?’ Taller man was talking to him, and Castiel quickly shook his head, as did the man in the suit.

‘See if you can find a first-aid kit. Any drugs, especially anything ending in “cillin”.’ Castiel did as he was told, scurried off to where the bags had fallen. It seemed wrong to reach for the zips of the bag and undo them, knowing that the owners were probably… Castiel looked up to the burning wreckage, then onwards to where he presumed the rest of the plane must have gone. He wasn’t going to be the one to suggest following it. He didn’t think he could handle seeing more bodies than he already had.

He'd had to climb over a body missing part of a leg, and that was enough to make him gag, clamping a hand over his mouth. He focused on the wash-kit he was flicking through, finding a bottle of what he quickly identified as pain meds. Unable to keep going through someone’s things, he moved back to the small group and handed them across to the tall man.

‘Thanks.’ The tall man stated. He didn’t look up from where they were looking after the air hostess. Castiel slumped down, watched the businessman come back with a small-bag, a cross on the side. He handed it across to the medical student, who seemed to pale further. Ah, a first-aid kit, Castiel could understand the growing tension.

‘Right.’ Kevin’s hands were wobbling, but nobody mentioned it.

Castiel was startled when a hand landed on his arm. It was the taller man, who had left the student and was now bending down.

‘Is it alright if I have a look at that cut?’ Castiel was pretty sure he wasn’t injured, until he followed the gaze to the dark stain on his shirt. He blankly nodded, found some strength in the bright eyes that assured him he would be alright. The top two buttons were undone, the tie removed, and the man peeled his shirt away.

Oh, now Castiel could feel it. Pain, a throbbing ache that radiated from the central point of the wound, and he shifted slightly.

‘It isn’t too bad, hold on.’ Tall-man reached back, grabbed what appeared to be a sterilizing wipe, and Castiel watched as dirty hands attempted to clean the cut.

‘Won’t even need stitches.’ The man cheerfully stated, like they hadn't just dropped from the sky and crashed in god-knows-where. A pad was placed over the wound, his shirt re-buttoned, and the man rocked back onto his feet.

‘I’m Sam.’ He offered, now suddenly looking rather shy. Castiel returned the smile, trying his best not to tremble.

‘Castiel.’ 

**

Jack had already decided that he wasn’t going to let these people out of his sight. He didn’t want to be left behind so he kept his pace behind the man that had helped him from his chair. His name was Dean, if Jack remembered correctly, and he was quickly losing his shock in favour of taking charge. The other man, the tall one that had carried the air hostess from the plane, had gone from the one taking lead, to quite happily falling into the background.

His name was Sam, and he was carrying the lady again, away from the dangerous wreckage that might burst into flames. Then there was a blue-eyed businessman, Castiel, although he had lost the tie and blazer. He’d also abandoned the briefcase he’d come out clutching, left it by the burning fire in exchange for carrying the medical kit.

The person closest to his age was the medical student named Kevin who hadn't left Sam’s side since patching up the air hostess. Next to them was the woman that had smiled at him on the plane named Meg. The final person in the group was a man who spoke very little, just to state that his name was Jacob. He had been cradling his wrists for a while, yet had refused medical help when Sam checked on them all.

They appeared to be in a woodland thick with trees and a dusty scrubland on the bottom. It was littered with burning wreckage from the plane. Once Dean, the one leading them away from the plane, deemed them far enough away from the bulk of the mess, they settled back down. The air hostess was propped up on some jackets that they had grabbed, while the others settled on the floor.

He was tired. He ached, even if he didn’t have many cuts, and he was quickly wishing he’d asked for water while on the plane. Plus, he had the oddest feeling that things were going to get worse. Jack looked up, found comfort in the fact that the others looked just as lost as he felt, when someone broke the silence.

‘Well, this is a bunch of crap.’ Meg stated, and the group looked up to her. Dean was the first to laugh, then Sam joined in, before most of them were chuckling. Jack wasn’t entirely sure why they were laughing, but he found a smile twitching on his lips.

He took note of the fact that the last man, Jacob, didn’t look pleased at all.

**

‘You ever going to tell us what went wrong?’ Sam asked Meg, and silence fell amongst the group. She cocked her head, raised an eyebrow in an impressed manner, and Sam held the stare.

‘How’d you know?’ It had been pretty easy for him to pick up on it, but he was glad he’d been correct. Before he could answer, the man he’d reached first, the nervous-flyer, cut in. Sam really needed to address the cut on his head, but he’d get to it once the group had settled and figured out what the hell had just happened.

‘Want to fill the rest of us in?’ His voice suited his face, Sam thought. Tough, firm, definitely an alpha-male type.

‘Meg here,’ he gestured vaguely to her, before noting his hand was covered in soot and ash, ‘Is the flight-Marshal.’ That drew attention to Meg, and she gave a mock-tip of the hat move, before the group fell back into the awkward silence.

‘We’re off course. Nav went down about three hours into the flight. We could be anywhere in the Atlantic.’ Not what Sam wanted to hear, but it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. They could have died.

‘Nobody knows where we are?’ Castiel, the businessman that had been clutching his case, asked. He looked rather pale, perhaps from the adrenaline, or the pain-meds that Sam had handed across due to the nasty slice along his collarbone. It wasn’t stitch-able, but it would leave one wicked scar if he didn’t keep it clean and covered.

‘Now, we don’t need to panic…’ Dean, evidently going for the leader-role, spoke up.

‘Why the hell shouldn’t we? We’re in the middle of nowhere, with a burning plane and a stupid forest for cover.’ Jacob, the last of the group, snapped. Sam didn’t like him. Call it instinct, but the fact he was refusing to let anyone tend to his obviously sore wrists gave Sam the chills. Another strong-male type, but he didn’t seem to garner much support from the group.

‘Because we need a plan. We have to find water. Food. Get the suitcases and collect some things to keep us warm. See if anyone else survived.’ He had a plan, and Sam could respect that. Dean was looking around, and when nobody argued, it was decided.

‘She okay to move?’ He asked, gestured to the Air hostess. Sam was quick to nod. He could carry her for a short distance, and it was probably better to have her away from the smoke.

‘Anyone got an issue with that?’ It was aimed at Jacob, but he didn’t speak up, and so the group started to stand. Sam offered Kevin, the terrified medical student who was still staring at the air hostess like he feared he’d hurt her more, a hand up. He took it, and Sam pulled him to his feet, clapped him on the shoulder in an attempt to reassure him.

**

Dean didn’t let the sinking feeling show. He stared out across the water, to where the light blue sea met the darker ocean, and fought the panic. This was fine. It was to be expected that they were on an Island. It was lucky that they had landed on the small section of ground.

Well, most of the plane had landed. He could see the floating wreckage, the lifejackets that weren’t on bodies, the sticky red blood that hung around the scraps. That lowered the chances of finding the Satellite phone that the Flight Marshal had suggested they get, but it wasn’t the worst news. The tail of the plane had survived, and as the tall-man, Sam, quickly reminded the group, that was where the black box was kept.

Dean turned back to the group and found that Sam and Castiel had begun pulling cases into a pile. The injured air-hostess was lying on the softer grass at the edge of the beach, with the two teens by her side. Meg was searching the wreckage, looking slightly battered, but she had refused to take the pain meds that Sam had suggested.

It was a weird sight. Dean finally focused on the black sheep of the group, Jacob, who was leaning against one of the trees, staring right back at him. He couldn’t help the shudder; he didn’t like the man.

‘Salt-water isn’t suitable for drinking, but it might be good for cleaning the cuts.’ Meg had come out of the wreckage, was padding across the sand towards him. She gave a brief smile, before kicking off her shoes.

‘How do we know it’s safe?’ Castiel, the businessman that Dean presumed had lived a sheltered life, asked. He looked terrified of the water, while Meg snorted.

‘Safe? We just survived a plane crash.’ She had a good point, and Dean kicked his own shoes off. One of the kids, Jack, was looking at the water in awe, like he’d never seen something so… beautiful. Dean had to admit, if it wasn’t for the plane crash, it would have been a nice place to visit.

‘C’mon kid, get yourself washed up.’ Jack obeyed, sat down to undo his shoes while Meg stripped off her shirt and jeans, before walking into the water. Dean did the same, opting for the quick-diving method, tasting salt as the water rushed over his head. There was space between them and the wreckage, nobody dared swim close to that, but it was working.

The soot was beginning to wash away. His skin stung as the salt entered open cuts, but it was a refreshing burn. Dean scrubbed at his hair, then looked across to where Castiel was entering the water. He still looked scared, so Dean swam across lazily and splashed him.

The look of shock was worth it, before it turned into a small smile, and Castiel splashed him back. Dean laughed, and Meg and Jack quickly joined the fight.

They’d survived.

**

Castiel was worried that Sam wouldn’t be impressed because he’d soaked the bandage, but he didn’t really seem bothered as he on the edge of the sand and soaking up the sun.

‘You coming in, Sammy?’ The nickname earned Dean a glare, before the tri-coloured eyes focused on the water.

‘S’it cold?’ It seemed strange, such a large man afraid of cold water, but Castiel didn’t ask. Dean shook his head, kicked back and floated on the waves, while Meg was swimming around the group. Jack had convinced Kevin to join them which left the Air hostess at the edge of the beach, with Jacob not far from her. For some reason, Castiel kept checking on the two of them, unsure about his gut-instinct that was telling him not to leave Jacob alone with her.

A wolf-whistle drew his attention back to Sam, who had stripped off his shirt. Meg was the one who whistled, and Castiel could see why. Muscular, his back rippling as he tugged the shirt off, but Castiel was more intrigued by the tattoo on his shoulder.

Army.

‘You’re in the army.’ Dean pointed out the obvious, as Sam undid the jeans and stepped out of them, folding them before walking down the beach and into the surf.

‘Was. I’m on a break.’ He reached waist height before lowering into the water, washing away the dirt and grime from his skin.

‘Some break.’ Dean pointed out, and Castiel found himself laughing again. It earned him a dazzling smile from Sam, before they settled back into silence as they let the water wash away the evidence of the crash.

‘If this is an island, where’s our best bet of fresh water?’ Meg asked, as Castiel began to climb out of the water. He’d found some suitcases earlier that had towels in them, and went to grab a couple and bring them back to the sand.

‘Inland. We’ll have to find shelter as well and make some sort of sign to flag for help.’ Sam’s suggestion was greeted with a range of ideas, from Dean’s “massive bonfire” to Kevin’s “message in the sand”. It was Jack that pointed out there was already a big fire, and that they needed to wait and see how high the sea would rise before making any message in the sand. Sam seemed pleased, shot the boy a proud grin, and Castiel didn’t miss the way that Jack’s mood improved.

‘We’ll explore. Wouldn’t hurt to find the black box, either.’ Meg pointed out as she swam closer to the shore. Sam had already left, grabbed a towel and hung it around his waist, although it did little to cover him. Castiel wasn’t sure why he was so openly ogling him, but he wasn’t the only one. He caught Dean’s gaze, the two of them both blushing and looking away from the soldier.

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Sam threw a towel at the flight Marshal, who rewarded him with a smirk.

**

Jack had opted for staying as far away from Jacob as possible. He had a weird stare, eyes that followed him around the beach as he dried off. It was like he was evaluating each of them based on their chances of survival. He may be new to the ideas of social interaction, but it didn’t take him long to figure out he was creepy.

‘Hey kid.’ Meg seemed nice. She was sitting in the sun and drying off her hair. With the plan that was made earlier confirmed, Sam had volunteered to lead the trek into the woods, while a group stayed with the air hostess until they knew where they were going to make a camp. Dean, the quickly-developing leader of the group, had offered to stay. That left the rest of them to pick a group, Kevin opting for staying with Dean, whereas Meg had been quick to say she would go with Sam. Castiel, the nice man that had checked on him earlier, seemed unsure of which group to pick.

Jack hadn't missed the looks that Dean and Castiel kept sending in Sam’s direction, but Jack hadn't quite figured out that bit yet.

‘Hello. Are you leaving soon?’ Jack inquired. Sam was just redressing Castiel’s wound, it didn’t look too bad, and Jack was glad that none of them, the air hostess aside, had very bad wounds.

‘Yeah, just waiting for Sammy to get a move on.’ When Dean called him that nickname, Sam had shot him a weird look, like he was unsure if it suited him. When Meg did it just now, she got an amused smile from the man. Jack looked across, made eye contact with Jacob, who was sitting slightly apart from the others. Meg followed his gaze, before placing a hand on his knee.

‘Do me a favour, kid, stay away from Jacob. He gives me bad vibes.’ The touch, Jack supposed, was supposed to be a form of comfort. He quite liked it, despite the tough no-nonsense attitude Meg usually adopted.

‘I could come with you? Help… carry things.’ He wasn’t sure exactly what he could offer, but Meg quickly agreed, and he walked across with her to the group.

‘Jack’s coming with us.’ No room for argument, but Sam didn’t seem inclined to disagree. He smiled warmly across at Jack, who hesitantly returned it. This was not quite the start he was imagining to his new life, though it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

‘Cas is as well.’ Castiel seemed pleased with the nickname, and Jack looked to the three of them as they stood up. Sam grabbed a backpack, he must have taken it from the wreckage, and placed in the first aid kit.

‘Better to be safe than sorry.’ Jack had a feeling that statement would come in handy later.

**

Sam grimaced; the mess of bodies were worse than he remembered. Meg had asked Castiel and Jack to focus their search by the treeline, while the two of them worked through the wreck. With the rest of the plane being swallowed by the sea, this was the only part left that could provide for them. He checked each person for a pulse, deep down knowing that he wouldn’t find one, but it settled his guilt. The wreck was still dangerous. The risk of the flames and fuel wasn’t something he wanted to contend with, so he hurried his collection.

Clothing wouldn’t be an issue, and they had gathered enough medical supplies to last for a short while. Some purifying tablets had been located, which would help ensure the water they drank wouldn’t make them ill. He also managed to find some bottles of water. He rolled those out to the other two, who packed them into the bags to take with them.

‘Gotcha!’ Sam peeked over the top of the seats, to see Meg holding a box in her hands. He was intrigued, climbed back into the aisle and across the few remaining rows to watch her unlock the box.

A 9mm Glock, perfectly encased in foam. Sam should have expected some form of weaponry, a Flight Marshal normally had access to something on the flight. Still, he may trust Meg with it, but he wasn’t sure it was a good thing to advertise among the group. He was about to voice the thought, but Meg just tapped the side of her nose, sealed the box and threw it out to the others. He supposed the lock should protect it.

‘Let’s take out the black box, then get out of here.’ Sam agreed with Meg and together they moved to the back of the aircraft. Meg seemed to know where she was looking, avoiding the sharp edges of the metal frame to reveal the black box. Sam had seen them before, his training led him to recognize it, and Meg’s would as well. They removed the two parts of the black box and left the wreckage, walking across to join the others. 

‘It isn’t black.’ Jack pointed out, and Meg gave a brief laugh. The boy was quickly growing on Sam, he seemed to be naturally inquisitive, and eager to help the group.

‘It’s just called the black box. This bit,’ Meg tapped the part she was holding, ‘Is the Flight Data Recorder.’

‘And this is the Cockpit Voice recorder. Together, they make up the data from the flight.’ He put his part down with Meg copying, they really were awfully heavy, and then looked to the other three.

‘Inland a bit? See if we can’t find water?’ They left the piles of things they would take to wherever they decided to stay, headed off deeper into the trees.

‘Where’d you serve?’ Meg asked, picking up a stick and using it to bat away the annoying leaves that kept blocking their journey. Sam walked at the back of the group, a way of making sure that the other two kept up.

‘Original deployment in Afghan, before two tours in Iraq.’ He didn’t mind the curiosity, he wanted to know about them as well. If he was going to be on an island with these people, he might as well get to know them.

‘Nothing like this, then?’ Meg quipped, a smirk on her face.

‘The heat’s nice.’ Sam shot back, before turning his attention to the other two.

‘What about you, Cas? What d’you do?’ Castiel briefly turned back, bright eyes wide, and Sam estimated that the man was roughly his age. Good-looking, in a way that Sam had noticed once he’d cleaned him up, not that he would say it out loud. Sam’s track record with his love life wasn’t great, he certainly wasn’t sure he wanted to tempt fate.

‘It sounds rather boring compared to the two of you, but I’m a businessman. My Father owns a company, and I work alongside my brothers.’ Huh, a family business. He could respect that, family was important, he knew that better than most.

‘How many brothers have you got?’ Meg asked, stabbing a particularly offensive leaf.

‘Three. All older.’ Sam chuckled, while Meg whistled low.

‘Bet that makes for a good family dinner.’ Castiel laughed at that, before Sam turned his attention to the youngest in the group.

‘Jack? What are you flying to the States for?’

‘My Aunt passed away about a year ago, and my Father didn’t want me, so I’m going back to America for a fresh start. A new family, maybe.’ Sam winced, it hit slightly too close to home, the family abandonment. From what he knew of his biological family, they already had one child, and hadn't wanted a second.

‘Shit, kid. Sorry for your loss.’ Meg sounded sincere, and Castiel offered an apologetic glance.

‘It’s alright. This is a lot more exciting than I thought my new life would be.’ That earned amused smiles around the group, and Jack looked back to Sam with a bright grin that Sam couldn’t help but return.

**

Dean didn’t like Jacob, not one bit. He watched over the group, keeping a close eye on the man off to one side, while working his way through the cases they had recovered. He’d found a couple of interesting things. One was a pocket-knife which he gave to Kevin and suggested he start sharpening some poles. He had gone fishing as a kid with his Dad and Uncle Bobby, he figured he could copy that method to stab at the fish in the sea.

The air hostess hadn't woken yet, but she might be able to shed some light on where they were. Meg’s information about the flight had worried him, but she’d had a pretty good attitude towards the whole thing, so she obviously thought they’d be okay. The soldier, Sam, was certainly a help to the group. For his part, Dean had managed to get them organised, one group heading off, the rest of them staying behind.

The sticks would help, and the pocketknife might be useful for filleting the fish, providing they managed to catch any. The clothes he’d gathered into piles. One for each person, including the unconscious air hostess. When she woke, she’d probably want more than the bloody uniform that she was in.

‘You going to help?’ Dean grunted to the other man, Jacob, who looked up from where he was seated. For a moment, Dean thought he’d be ignored entirely.

‘I think I’ll just wait for the rescue.’ The man drawled, looking to the cases Dean was rummaging through in distaste. Dean’s temper flared. He stood up straight, while Kevin muttered a curse under his breath and looked between them.

‘You got something to say?’ Kevin was retreating, right back to where the air hostess lay, as Jacob slowly stood up and came closer.

‘Who made you boss? They’ve been dead for an hour, and you’re jumping over their graves. Might as well get the coins, if you’re looking for a profit.’ Dean couldn’t quite believe the guy, then tried to reason with himself. He might be in shock, the adrenaline had to be doing things, or maybe he had known people on the flight.

‘I’m not acting boss. Feel free to do what you like. I’m just trying to keep us safe while we wait for a rescue.’ He gritted the words out, and Jacob snorted with amusement, gestured to Dean’s hands.

‘You’re a worker, some low-paid job that makes you think you can rise up in situations like these.’ Dean wanted to punch him, but was trying to maintain a cool attitude. It was made difficult when he insinuated that Dean was stealing from the dead, and took a jab at his lifestyle.

‘Not all of us are stuck up douchebags.’ Jacob, surprisingly, threw a punch. Dean didn’t expect it, and so it hit straight on his jawline. He felt his lip split, along with a couple of the small scratches opening up again. Dean rose from his stumble, squaring up to the suited-man opposite. Jacob, was cradling the hand that had hit him, even though it hadn't been the hardest punch.

‘That all y’got?’ Dean taunted, despite tasting blood, and the man lunged again. Dean was more than happy to go for it, until someone broke them apart.

**

Castiel had helped carry everything to their new camp, wondering how Sam managed to carry practically half a plane by himself. Then again, he had a nice view of the muscles working, considering Sam had rolled his sleeves up and unbuttoned the first couple of buttons of his shirt. The group had found a rocky mountain with a small waterfall that led to a stream, and Sam had deemed the water drinkable. He suggested they set up on the rock face, use the clearing as a place to build some form of shelter for the Air hostess.

They’d unpacked some of the stuff, Sam staking the ground out and then marking a path back towards the beach. Nobody wanted to ask how long they might be stuck here, not even considering that they might have to find a way to survive on this island.

‘Coconuts.’ Sam remarked, staring up at one of the tall trees. The group halted, staring at it, and then Castiel recalled that coconuts had a liquid inside them. Something to drink, and the shells could be useful for water. That was seemingly what Sam was thinking, circling the trunk of the tree.

‘Think you can shake em’ down?’ Meg asked, and Sam shrugged.

‘Worth a shot.’ Meg guided them backwards, away from the coconuts that they had spotted, and Sam gripped the tree.

It was quite amusing to watch. Slowly but surely, the tree began to shake. Castiel watched as the coconuts landed on the soft ground, bouncing and rolling slightly.

Four in total, which Sam and Meg collected.

‘What can we use them for?’ Jack asked, staring at the one in Sam’s hand with awe. The man handed it across to the kid, offering out a smile.

‘Coconuts contain liquid, it’ll be a source of nutrients, and we can use the shells to carry water.’ Meg chuckled at Jack’s expression, the kid rolling the coconut in his hands, and Sam began the walk again. They talked on the way back, swapping stories of their homes, or why they were here. Castiel didn’t miss the protectiveness Sam had over Jack, the moment he’d mentioned that his father didn’t want him.

Arriving back on the beach would have been reassuring, except there appeared to be a fight going on. Dean had a split lip, blood trickling down his chin, and Jacob was flushed. The two of them were scrambling in the sand, Kevin spotting them and looking thankful that they had returned.

It was Sam that ran across, gripping Jacob and dragging him backwards, putting himself between the two guys.

‘ENOUGH!’ Even though Castiel hadn't been the one in the wrong, he still felt guilty at the tone. Jacob squirmed in the hold for a moment, still trying to get to Dean, before he slumped. Sam looked between them, before releasing the man, who stalked off down the beach.

‘What was that?’ Sam asked, staring at Dean. The other man was still fuming, anger in his eyes, and he just shrugged.

‘Jacob started it.’ Kevin provided, and Sam relaxed slightly, looking to Dean.

‘Need me to clean those cuts?’ Dean grumbled something about how he could handle himself, walking towards Kevin, while Sam sighed.

Castiel figured it wouldn’t be the only fight on the Island.

**

Jack stayed by Meg’s side, unsure of why there had been a fight. Dean was still “nursing his pride”, according to Meg. Sam was explaining what they had found, and that they should start moving, because the sun was setting. Jack wondered, not for the first time, why Sam didn’t take charge. He was evidently waiting for Dean’s approval, despite the fact that Sam made logical sense for a leader.

Jacob returned, sat on the edge of the group and stayed silent.

‘Ok, we need to figure this out.’ Sam looked between them, and his words drew the attention of the entire group.

‘We pick one person to be the leader, to make the decisions. It doesn’t mean we can’t all input, but it’ll reduce arguments.’ Jack watched the faces of those around him and nobody seemed surprised, even if Jacob looked annoyed at the statement.

‘We take a vote, anybody who wants to put themselves forward can. Anybody who doesn’t like the rules, can leave the group.’ Jack definitely didn’t want that, but one quick smile from Sam reassured him that the anger wasn’t addressed to him.

‘I don’t want a jackass like him in charge.’ Jacob snapped, gesturing vaguely to Dean, who looked pretty pissed off.

‘Then I guess you’re running for leader.’ Sam shot back, and then looked to Dean. The man looked surprised, before nodding.

‘Alright, anybody want to vote first?’ It didn’t take a genius to work out that most people would go where Sam did. Jack knew that he and Meg were having a silent conversation, exchanged in glances and nods.

‘I’m with macho-man.’ Meg stated, nodding to Dean. Sam gave her a thankful smile, looking to Castiel.

‘Yeah, I’m with Dean as well.’ Jack was next, then Kevin and Sam finally looked to Jacob.

‘You good with that?’ Jacob was scanning each one of them, finally focusing on Sam.

‘Alright.’ He eventually stated, outnumbered. Jack was grateful they were avoiding a fight. With the decision made, Sam suggested they get to their new location.

**

Sam sat by the air hostess underneath the temporary shelter they’d made. Dean had sharpened some sticks, and they had been put in a square, with a piece of waterproof fabric over the top that Sam had salvaged. They’d made a bed from one of the broken chairs, propped the lady on it, and covered her in blankets.

It was getting dark; they’d started a small fire with his help. The group were taking it in turns to snack on some of the food they’d recovered, along with the coconuts that were being shared freely. Sam had stored the water bottles under the shelter, and had offered to take first watch of the injured air hostess.

He wasn’t sure how long they would remain here, but he figured it could be worse. At least they had each other.

The gun had been left in the pack that Meg had, while Dean had showed everyone the Knife he had found. He’d asked if there was anyone in particular that wanted to carry it, and before Jacob had the chance, Sam had suggested he keep it.

In the morning, they’d have to work on making a sign on the beach, once they saw how far the water reached. Hopefully, they’d be rescued in a couple of days, and everything would be fine. He peered down to the air hostess, who, despite her injury, looked alright. Her colour was returning, her breathing more relaxed and a quick check of her pulse found it strong.

He checked on the wound and, finding no signs of infection, hoped she woke up soon. They could do with her being able to eat, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to try and feed her through a tube. Sam sighed, then jumped when someone entered the tent.

‘Hey.’ Dean looked bruised and sore, his lip the worst, and blood still on his skin. Sam gestured to the spare seat, which he hesitantly took, before reaching for some cleaning supplies.

‘Look, I’m sorry about the fight…’

‘Don’t apologise, he’s bad news. Anyone can see that. Just don’t get hurt next time, Jerk.’ He wasn’t sure where the insult came from, it just felt natural. Dean looked surprised, then a slow smile spread. It was full of charm, of confidence that made Sam feel nervous, blushing like a schoolgirl under Dean’s gaze.

‘Worried about me, bitch?’ Sam rolled his eyes, dabbed at the wound and tried not to concentrate on how close they were.

‘I’d rather us get off this island alive.’ He scolded gently, apologising when Dean hissed at the burning antiseptic liquid.

‘True. But this is a good opportunity to… blow off steam.’ The way he said it, combined with those dangerously green eyes, made Sam hope that his love-life didn’t have a habit of repeating itself.

**

Dean was hungry. It probably shouldn’t be his main concern, not when they had been on this island for a couple of days now, and there were still no signs of rescue. As the newly appointed leader of the group, he was in charge of sorting out aims for the group. Yesterday, their first full-day on the island, he had allowed them to settle around the new place they were choosing to live at. The air hostess had woken, briefly, but Sam stated she did nothing more than open her eyes, blink, then fall back unconscious.

With Meg’s help, and Jacob’s reluctant assistance, they had managed to make a pile of trash and flammable items, lighting a fire on the beach that they hoped would bring attention to them. Kevin had been spouting facts for most of the morning, about the shipping tracks in the ocean, and something about latitudinal lines that Dean did his best to follow. The kid was obviously smart. He had helped save the air hostess, after all, but Dean found it more amusing than anything else. The only person that ever matched his level of conversation was Sam, who Dean was determined to learn more about.

So, back to the issue at hand. Food. They had some things salvaged from the crash, but that was about it. The coconuts had been emptied, and there were only so many salted peanut packets left. Dean mused over this problem while watching Sam teach Jack how to sharpen the sticks with the knife, the youngest member of their group staring up at the soldier like he was an alien.

‘Dean.’ He looked up, met the blue-eyed gaze of Castiel. He moved across to make room for the man to sit down. He did, dressed in a shirt and dress pants that he must have found from one of the suitcases. Some habits, it seemed, were harder to break than others.

‘Hey Cas.’ They sat in silence for a bit, watching the others of the Camp. Meg and Kevin were cleaning up the coconut shells, Jacob was at the entrance to the air hostess’s tent. Dean was slightly suspicious about the man, he was obviously hiding something, but Sam had advised him that it was best to avoid conflict.

‘Do you think anyone’s coming for us?’ Dean asked, then regretted the question. His Mom and Dad had to be worried, he could imagine his Aunt and Uncle trying to comfort them, thinking that he was dead. And, for most of the families that were waiting on answers, it was the truth. Out of all of the passengers, very few had survived the crash.

‘I think… I think they’re searching. Trying to track the plane.’ Castiel had told him a little about his family, a rich-business type, and Dean could only imagine how much pressure was on the man.

‘Guess it’s like a mini-holiday.’ Dean joked, surprised when the other man laughed. Their attention turned back to Sam, who had stripped off his shirt and was heading towards the waterfall, presumably to wash. The two of them followed the soldier with their gaze, then caught each other staring.

Well, Dean was more than willing to share.

**

Castiel headed across to Meg, who had stripped down to the bare minimum and was now sunbathing. She always seemed to get along easily with everyone, Sam especially. Castiel, however had never tried to pursue anybody that hadn't been suggested by his Father as a good political match, which was what brought him to Meg in the first place.

‘Speak your mind, Clarence.’ She stated, eyeing him up, before she settled back onto the grass floor. Castiel hesitated, took a seat by her side, then focused on the reason he had come, deciding the nickname could come later.

‘Sam…’ He trailed off, the words slipping away as the Flight Marshal sat up.

‘You want to get in his pants, right?’ He spluttered, unable to deny it, because it was true. Not that he’d have worded it like that.

‘I… Dean… we…’

‘Ah, you both want Sam. Then just tell him. He seems open to that kind of thing.’ She made it seem so simple, and Castiel wished he had her optimism. What did Sam see when he looked at them? Dean was a leader, a man that had taken charge and organised the group. Castiel was just a businessman, someone that was trying to adapt to the heat and lack of insect-repellent.

‘You make it sound normal.’ Castiel muttered, thinking about what his Father would say if he picked a love interest for himself. He had no issues over gender, the relationships his older brothers got into showed that, but a man he’d met because a plane had crashed?

‘We’ve survived. Might as well live a little.’

**

Jack liked Sam. He spent time with him, showed him how to sharpen the sticks and how to make things for the group. They had made another tent, and had pulled fabric over the top, then added some coconut leaves which Sam informed him would make the tent waterproof. Honestly, he was beginning to enjoy his time on the island. It was a learning experience that he’d never had. People treated him like he was an equal, rather than a burden.

‘I don’t want them to find us.’ He blurted out, Sam’s hands freezing, where they were stacking clothes that needed to be stored where they wouldn’t get wet. The man raised his head, and Jack knew that he probably shouldn’t have said such a thing.

‘Why not?’ He asked, softly, gestured for Jack to come across and sit by his side. The bench creaked under both their weight, but held firm, and he vaguely realised that he was proud of such an achievement.

‘I’ll be taken back into some place, with people that don’t really care about me.’ Sam sighed, placed a hand on his shoulder, comfort that Jack hadn't had in a long time.

‘Jack, listen. Foster-care… it sucks. I get it, I do. But it doesn’t define who you are. You can be anybody, do anything that you want to, if you put your mind to it.’ Like Sam had, he thought. Jack cocked his head, trying to understand how he could ever become anything like him, and Sam just chuckled.

‘You don’t have to worry about it now. C’mon, let’s find a way to gather some food.’ He followed the soldier out of the tent, wondering if Sam ever felt lonely. Did he not miss having his own family?

**

Fish, it turned out, were quite easy to gather. It had quickly turned into a game, who could catch the most fish with the pointy sticks that had been crafted. Dean was quick, agile, managed to lunge with ease but often forgot the fact that overreaching ended in him going splashing into the ocean. Meg was calm, patient, yet often got distracted by laughing at Dean.

Jack stood close to Sam’s side, not that the soldier minded, copying his actions and chasing a fish when he spotted it. Castiel was to his other side, a frown on his face, staring at the water like it had personally offended him. It was too funny, every time he made a stab for the fish, Sam burst out laughing.

Running through the water and chasing fish might have been a good way to spend the day, but by the time the sun set, they were starving. Sixteen fish in total, gathered into Sam’s soaked shirt and carried back through the forest, and to their camp. Dean, whether he was doing it consciously or not, started making plans for the evening, giving people jobs to help pass the time.

Meg was the one to light the fire, Jack collecting wood with Castiel’s help. Sam filleted the fish with Dean giving him a hand, the two working in silence.

Once the smell of cooking fish was filling the clearing, Sam went to check on the Air hostess. He spotted Jacob sitting close by on the rocks, and Kevin outside the tent, making an inventory of the first-aid supplies like Sam had asked. A good kid, if a little obsessed with his work, and Sam suggested he take a break to get some food.

Inside the tent, Sam halted. The woman was still sitting on the bed they had made, but her eyes were open, intently studying the bandage around her midriff.

‘Who are you?’ She croaked; her voice hoarse. Sam grabbed the coconut shell with water in it and rushed to her side. She was rather pretty, in a typical-blonde way. She may even have been Sam’s type, had he not had the worst of luck with women. Then there was the fact that he was more intrigued by the businessman and mechanic sitting by the fire.

‘Hey, easy. I’m Sam, I was on the flight. You were injured. There was shrapnel to the abdomen, but it’s been removed and we’ve stitched you up.’ She drained the water hungrily, gulping it down before wiping the back of her mouth with her hand, attempting to sit up. He helped, watched her look around the tent with unsure eyes.

‘Jess. My name’s Jess. I… we crashed. The plane, it lost the navigation, and…’ She halted, hand flying to her stomach, and Sam held her. He’d seen shell-shocked men and women do the same, ramble until things came back to them, until the pain set in and they realised where they were.

‘You’re okay. There’s a small group of survivors, we’ve made a camp.’ Now that he had a name for her, it made it easier to see her as another member of the group. She clutched at his hand, looking terrified, and he tried to soothe her nerves.

‘Survivors? What… where are we?’

‘On an Island, somewhere in the Atlantic. There’s eight of us, in total.’ He watched her pale once again, like she was realising the odds of her surviving the crash had been very slim.

‘Eight… there were hundreds on the plane.’ She whispered, eyes filling with tears, and he could do nothing but hold her.

‘I’m going to get you some food, alright? Stay here.’ She released his hand, watched him stand, then reached out for him. He watched her eyes turn frantic, something close to panic.

‘Is there a man? Tall, short hair, I think his name might have been Jacob.’ Did she know him? He didn’t want to point out that he had been a very unwilling member of the group, just nodded and tried to force a smile.

‘Yes, he made it out alive. Is that…’ She tried to stand, and he caught her quickly, sat her back down and tried to keep her calm as her breathing became laboured.

‘It’s alright, you’re okay…’

‘You don’t understand! He’s… he was a prisoner!’ Sam halted, rocked back and stared up at her.

‘A prisoner?’ The hands. He’d been hiding his wrists, presumably because they’d been cuffed.

‘FBI agents, the two beside him, they were bringing him back. I was told not to serve him.’ Sam swallowed, Jacob’s interest in whether she was awake or not suddenly made an awful lot of sense.

‘Stay here.’

**

Dean chewed on the fish, accepting the drink that Meg handed him. The group were settled around the fire, distributing the food between them, when Sam came out of the tent. Dean knew instantly that something was wrong, the soldier looked worried, came hurrying across to them.

‘She’s awake.’ That was good news, he knew that both Kevin and Sam had been worried they would have to tube feed her.

‘Meg, where’s the gun?’ Dean froze, what gun? The Flight Marshal looked to him, then scrambled up from the fire and across to the bag she’d claimed as her own. Reached inside for a case, unlocked it and flipped it open.

Only for the case to be empty. There was a hollow outline of what could only have been a standard Glock. Why Sam had known about it, and not the rest of them, Dean didn’t ask. Not when he realised it meant someone had taken it, and there was only one person not currently sitting in the group.

‘Jacob.’ Dean stated, and Sam looked around the clearing. He hadn't eaten any fish and Dean recalled him slipping out earlier, not that bothered if he wasn’t joining in with the others.

‘He’s a prisoner. Was a prisoner.’ The wrists! He’d been hiding cuff-marks, Dean realised, and then focused on the more important thing.

Jacob had a gun.

**

Castiel didn’t argue as they were all huddled into the shelter, Sam and Dean at the entrance to the tent, discussing what they were supposed to do now that there was a man with a gun loose on the island.

‘If he didn’t shoot us earlier, why would he now?’ Jack asked, looking confused.

‘We know who he is.’ Meg answered, placing a hand on his shoulder.

‘No wonder he was so interested in her.’ Kevin added, looking to the air hostess, who was sitting up on the bed with wide eyes. He felt sorry for her, she had woken to absolute chaos. At least Sam had brought her some fish, which her shaky fingers were picking at.

‘Jess. She’s got a name.’ Sam snapped, ran a hand through his hair and looked around the tent with worry.

‘Easy, let’s all take a moment to breathe. Now, logically, he’s going to come back. We’ve got the water supply, and the food. There’s more of us, than there are of him.’ How Dean was staying calm was beyond Castiel’s comprehension, he seemed so sure of himself, like this was a perfectly ordinary situation that he had handled hundreds of times already.

‘But he’s got a gun, and we’ve got pointy sticks. And a knife.’ Meg added, all points that Castiel had already thought of hundreds of times, realising that this was not a holiday anymore. There was a prisoner on the island with them, with a gun. A gun he wouldn’t have taken, had he not had a need for it.

‘And we’ve got a Flight Marshal AND a soldier. All the supplies. So, Sam, tell me what he’s thinking.’ Castiel blinked, the change in tone was weird, but it seemed to shock Sam out of his panic. His eyes focused onto the mechanic, and Sam nodded.

‘He’s taken the gun because he knew Jess was waking up. He snuck out, probably to find a place where he can hide. Somewhere with access to fresh water, further upstream from us. Height advantage, where he can watch us, but we can’t see him.’ Brilliant, that was useful, but they were still at a severe disadvantage.

‘What do you suggest?’ Meg asked, looking between the two of them.

‘We go and find him. Talk it out?’ Kevin provided, but Sam shook his head.

‘Let him think we’re going to the beach tomorrow, so he’s safe to come to the base. We have to find where he’s staying.’

**

Jack’s new, exciting life was now a little dangerous. He had been around guns before, his Father was never in a room without an armed man to protect him, but this was different. Now, the gun was a threat to him. Sam had told them they had to act, to pretend everything was perfectly fine, and that plan was easier said than done.

Jess had an arm around his shoulder, Meg on the other side, helping her walk towards the beach. Leaving her at Camp hadn't been an option, apparently, and Sam had insisted they move her. Meg was in charge of their group, and they had a simple job. To stay at the beach, keep the signal fire alight, and to hide if they heard gunshots.

Castiel, Dean and Sam had gone after Jacob. Meg had hugged Sam, told him he better come back without any holes in him, and Sam had laughed. He had a feeling that even if they got off this island, the two of them would stay close.

At the beach, they made a place for Jess to sit and rest, left the water bottles by her while Meg went to put more rubbish onto the fire. It had dwindled a bit overnight, but by now, most of the wreckage had drifted ashore. Kevin offered to stay with Jess, so Jack went to help with the fire, wondering if Sam and the others would be safe.

Jack shouldn’t have said that he didn’t want people to find them. This wasn’t a holiday, it was a dangerous place, and although he did enjoy the company, there were things on this island far scarier than a life in the foster system. Besides, he was almost old enough to look after himself, like Sam had said.

He could only hope that the soldier came back, so that Jack could assure him he was going to do just as he’d said. Make himself a new life, regardless of what had happened before.

**

Sam hated this. It felt like he was back on tour, knee-deep in shrubs with a pack on his back, and a rifle heavy in his grip. Except he didn’t have the security of a weapon, he wasn’t wearing any form of protective clothing, and he had two civilians by his side that he was supposed to be keeping safe. They had followed the others for the first part of the walk, then looped around and used the sun to keep on the right path, heading back to the cliff that protected their base camp.

If he was wrong about this, then one of them could get hurt. Or worse. This was no longer a trip to an island; it became a thing of nightmares. He had people back under his care, and he had a bad track record of losing those around him.

‘You want to tell us what’s got you freaked?’ Dean murmured, following his every step. Sam should have expected the question. For some reason, Dean could see right through him.

‘Feels like I’m back on tour.’ He admitted, keeping his pace and looking through the trees in front for any signs of footsteps. If they ran into Jacob, he’d be more likely to shoot first, and ask questions later.

‘That a bad thing?’ As much as Sam loved his military life, the sense of routine and discipline, there were parts that he wished he could forget altogether. Wasn’t that why he was returning to the States, to try and live a new life? A break, away from the gunfire and blood.

‘I lost a lot of people.’ Sam stated, the honesty burning him up inside as he held up a hand for them to halt. They had to be parallel to the Camp, now. Hopefully Jacob was there, stealing supplies.

‘I’m sorry.’ Dean offered, the same words that so many people had said, but this time, he could almost believe the man was being genuine.

‘Come on. He won’t be long.’ Plus, he didn’t really want this conversation to continue.

**

Dean knew it was going to go wrong, the moment they heard the scream.

They’d made it to where Sam predicted Jacob was staying, and sure enough, there was a small bundle of cloth and an empty water bottle at the base of the cliff, accompanied with footprints that could only belong to Jacob. Sam had searched around, went to the water that would provide for him, then back to the bottle.

‘What’s the plan?’ Castiel asked, Sam reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pill box. Dean fell silent, watched as the man tapped a fine powder into the bottle, the bit of liquid disguising it.

‘Kill him?’ Dean whispered, slightly horrified. Sam chuckled, looking amused.

‘It should make him sleepy. Enough so that we can sneak up and take the gun back.’ That made a lot more sense than killing him, Dean decided, glad that somebody else had been in charge of this part of the plan. Castiel kept watch as they finished adding the powder. Sam screwed the lid shut and then crept towards where the water tumbled from the rocks.

‘Can you see him?’ Both him and Cas asked at the same time, Dean grinning victoriously.

‘Jinx.’ Cas rolled his eyes, both of them looking back to Sam.

‘He isn’t there.’ That wasn’t good. Dean figured it was one of those things that you’d prefer to see, rather than having to guess where he might be. Sam was standing up, evidently sure that Jacob wasn’t down in the clearing, a frown on his face.

‘I don’t get it; he should have been there. Why wouldn’t he go for the supplies?’ Dean knew that Sam must have had to make some tough calls as a soldier. He could imagine that he had seen some stuff that would be in Dean’s worst nightmares.

But the thing that would always haunt Dean was Sam’s face the moment the scream echoed.

A female scream, breaking through the trees and sending birds flying. Sam’s mouth dropped, his eyes widened, and then Dean caught the exact moment where Sam realised he’d made a mistake.

It was then followed by a gunshot, which had Dean’s stomach dropping all the way to the ground.

**

Castiel had no choice but to watch as Sam sprinted off into the undergrowth, leaving him and Dean standing at their vantage point. The soldier hadn't hesitated, the moment the scream hit their ears, he was gone.

‘We need to…’ Dean trailed off, head cocking to the side while his eyes widened. For a moment, Castiel thought that he was going insane. That the heat had gotten to him, or the trauma from the crash had finally crept up and hit him full-force. But then he heard it, a slight vibration that travelled through the air, a steady thrum that had the hairs on his neck prickling.

It took another second for him to recognise the pattern that it made, the sound of the blades spinning taking over the space. It rocked the trees, just as the sight of a black spec on the otherwise blue sky appeared.

‘We’ve been found.’ Dean murmured, breaking the silence that fell between them. He’d expected relief, a rush of joy that would spread through his bones the moment he knew they were safe. Instead, the cold swept over him like a fog, thickening by the moment.

‘We have to get to Sam.’ Castiel argued, grabbing Dean’s hand and dragging him in the direction that the Soldier had run in.

**

Jack had lived a life that he knew aligned with chaos. Being born to a woman that died instantly, with an Aunt that didn’t really want him. Every time she looked in his direction, he could see that pain in her eyes that came with having him around. It took a while for him to figure it out, to understand that he had the temperament as his Mother had.

His father didn’t want him either. It wasn’t good for a man like him to have a child scampering after him, nor one that had no interest in his line of work. Jack had just begun to tell Meg about this, the two of them seated by his signal, when his bad luck came creeping up once again. This time, rather than the death or abandonment he usually faced, it came in the form of a man.

Jacob wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be far away, wherever Sam had led the other two. Not here, on the beach, with nobody to protect him but Meg and a bonfire with flames that licked up to the sky.

‘Jacob…’ Meg began, holding her hands up placatingly as she moved in front of him, shoving him with enough force for Jack to hit the sand, scrabbling backwards.

‘I can’t go back. I can’t have them finding us.’ The fire. Jack’s eyes darted across to Kevin, who was desperately trying to drag Jess towards the treeline. He figured out why when the criminal reached into his waistband, drew out the gun that should have been Meg’s. He’d seen weapons before, sleek and shiny and terrifying, but it had never been threatening him.

‘We can talk about this. I’ve got friends in good places, I can help…’ The gun pointed straight at her, unwavering as Jacob’s frown deepened.

‘Step away from the fire.’ It had taken such a long time for them to build it, and without it… they had to get off this island. Jack knew that now, could see it in the way Jess’s face had paled from her injuries, in the tremble of Kevin’s hands as he continued to pull her closer to cover.

‘I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you ruin the chance these people have.’ Meg’s eyes didn’t waver from Jacob, even if she was talking about him. Jack tried to stand, only for Meg to shove him back down, just in time for him to watch Jacob’s attention turn.

Kevin abandoned his grip on Jess, the air hostess hitting the floor and screaming as she hit the ground. Understandable; Jack had seen the wound on her stomach, the deep laceration that Kevin had tried to stitch.

Meg lunged for her, Jess being knocked unconscious the moment she touched the ground, the scream dying on her lips.

It was accompanied by a larger sound, a bang that startled Jack enough to have him clapping his hands over his ears.

**

The second gunshot was much louder than the first, probably because Sam was on the sand at the same time that the weapon was raised. Meg’s gun, the same one he had seen when they first landed, yet hadn't ever thought it would be used against them.

Why hadn't he pushed the issue of Jacob? He’d seen how the man defied the others, how he attacked Dean, but he still hadn't tried to stop it. All his years of experience with people, all his years of seeing the pain people could cause each other, wasted. Despite being trained by the best, Sam had to watch the effects of the first shot, while hitting into the side of Jacob.

The second shot went wide, crackled out over the sound of the ocean as Sam wrestled for the gun that would mean the eight of them never made it off this island alive. It only lasted for a second, as strong as Jacob was, he was injured. Weak from a lack of food, wrists swollen and probably infected, very little energy to hold back Sam when he was angry.

The butt of the gun connected with Jacob’s temple, the skin splitting and fresh blood trickling down the side.

‘...vin, wake up, c’mon.’ Sam sat up slowly, taking the gun and unloading it quickly, chucking it as far away from Jacob’s unconscious form as possible.

Meg was standing not too far away, cradling Jack’s head under the corner of her chin, a hand stroking through his hair softly. A look that he’d almost call compassion ghosted over her features, prompting him to follow her gaze towards his mistake.

Jess’s hands were slick with blood, a stark red against her pale skin, clutching vaguely at the person under her. Another shake, her words doing little to wake the not-quite Doctor that had saved her life before.

He could do nothing but watch as Jess tried to bring back her friend, their friend, because of Sam’s failure.

**

Dean reached the sand shortly before the helicopter, running out in time to see Sam lying in the sand, facing the sky, wit Jacob by his side. Alive, from the rise and fall of his chest, possibly trying to avoid looking at the scene that greeted him by the treeline.

‘Jessica,’ Castiel began, reaching for her shoulder gently while the sound picked up as the helicopter lowered.

It was a terrifying thing to watch, even as he noticed the ropes that began to descend, people flooding the beach that had been his home ever since the crash.

A home that ended with one of them dead, another injured, and an experience that he was never going to be able to explain to anyone.

‘He just needs to hold on.’ Jess murmured, tracing Kevin’s cheek gently. Her voice was barely loud enough to hear over the methodical thumping of the blades, or the shouting as chaos descended onto the beach.

‘We did it.’ Dean said, mostly to himself, partly to the man standing by his side. Castiel nodded, but they both knew they didn’t really mean it.

It wasn’t a success, when they hadn't all made it.

**

Castiel let himself be poked yet again, another bright light shining into his eyes as the Doctor questioned him. According to the man in Uniform, the one that had dragged Sam off to an unknown location, they were currently somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, onboard a US Navy ship that was hosting them.

‘Any ringing in your ears, nausea?’ If he hadn't had any symptoms before, then he would have done with all this increasing pressure on him. Castiel shook his head in answer to the question, looked away from his cubicle and to the others in the medical wing.

Jess was still sobbing, although it was a quiet sound amongst the footfall of the Doctors and nurses and others in uniform that rushed around them. Dean was adamantly refusing all medical assistance, demanding that they tell him where Sam was currently being kept.

Jacob hadn't been seen since they boarded the ship, or more accurately, landed. Kevin’s body had been taken as well, vanished into thin air before they made it back to their current location.

‘Mr Novak, your family has been informed and is waiting along with the other relatives at the docking port.’ The Doctor attempted a friendly smile, falling drastically short as he moved away from Castiel’s beside.

His family. It was strange to think that he’d been so worried about his father’s opinions, prior to the flight that led him to an Island with a bunch of strangers.

‘You’re looking pasty, Clarence.’ Castiel rose his head the moment the curtain was dragged back, Meg moving in and perching herself on the edge of the bed. She was dressed in khaki pants and a strappy top, probably stolen from somebody else, and her cuts and bruises were bandaged up thoroughly.

‘We’re going back. To normal life.’ It sounded unrealistic, given his life just hours before. Meg shrugged, looking across to where Jack was seated on his own bed, alone, knees tucked up to his chest.

‘Some of us don’t have a life to go back to.’ Castiel winced at that, didn’t need a reminder of the fact that two of them had been going back with no form of family. Sam, the ex-soldier on a break from whatever kept those tri-coloured eyes hauntingly empty, and Jack, the boy that tried so hard to please.

‘You think we’ll ever see each other again?’ In the real world, Castiel would never have met somebody like Meg. Or Dean, or Sam, or any of the others. They never would have appeared on his radar, until he crashed onto an island and met them.

‘Well, if you’ve got any chance of getting anywhere with wonder-boy, you’ll be seeing quite a bit of Dean.’ Castiel blushed, found himself ready to argue that there was no reason for him to see Sam, until he realised, he’d walked right into her trap. Meg smiled, but it was oddly sad, downturned in the corners.

‘I should be going.’ Meg rose, but Castiel reached for her hand. It was the first time they’d properly connected, spoken like this, and he was surprised by the shock in her eyes. It was replaced by weariness, although she didn’t pull away from his touch.

‘It wasn’t your fault. What happened to Kevin.’ The woman chuckled, glancing over to where Jess had finally been knocked out, the curtains being shut around her shortly after.

‘If you really thought that, you’d consider me a friend.’ Castiel smiled slightly, met Dean’s eye for the briefest of moments, before squeezing Meg’s hand.

‘We are friends. I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking it’s time for a career change.’

**

Jack was dismissed after they’d checked him over, nothing more than a few probing questions that asked about the men he had been travelling with. When he admitted to his father’s name, Lucian Milton, quite a few looks had been exchanged. That, combined with the very angry soldier sticking up for him, meant that Jack was by Sam’s side in a very short time. Not that Sam offered any explanation as to where he had been taken, and Jack was too afraid to ask.

‘We’re almost there.’ Sam’s gaze stayed on the ocean, the ship crashing through the waves as they made their way towards the US. Jack didn’t know what was waiting for him on land, but he hoped it was a continued friendship with the people from the island. Maybe not Jessica Moore, she seemed determined to forget this thing ever happened. Then there was Jacob, who was currently in a cell, according to the soldier next to him.

‘Have you got any relatives waiting for you?’ Jack finally asked, a question that had been bugging him ever since Meg’s excitement to see her brother again.

‘No. Neither have you, I presume?’ It was a given. The only person Jack had was his Aunt, and she was gone. His father was more likely to be annoyed at the loss of his men, rather than the fact Jack survived a plane crash. That left nobody, other than the friends he had just made.

‘You’ll come and see me, right?’ Jack questioned, which was answered by Sam reaching into his jacket and fishing out a candy bar. It was enough to make him smile, opening the wrapper and snacking while waiting for the others to appear.

**

‘Captain?’ Sam startled, turning away from the landmass on the horizon and focusing back on the man in front. Dean and Castiel both rose their heads from where they were seated on the deck, while Jack was by his side. Meg had taken to annoying the soldiers that wandered around, wary of the group.

It had been a long time since someone used his title. Some things didn’t change, like how he felt about what had happened, or the outcome of his actions. He’d lost Kevin, and Sam wished he felt guiltier. Instead, he couldn’t help but look across to Meg and Jack, hated the way his mind was flooded with relief at the fact they were still alive.

Kevin Tran would have become a Doctor; of that, Sam had no doubt. It was Sam’s weakness that led to Jacob outsmarting him, and now the others had been avoiding the topic like the plague.

‘Yes?’ He didn’t want to leave Jack. He could see himself in the eyes of the boy, the same naivety that he had before the foster system passed him around. The boy deserved better, a home where he could begin to understand who he was, a chance to be a better man. Meg agreed, had even tentatively suggested she could try and take him on.

He couldn’t ask that of her. If this trip had proved anything to Sam, it was the need for an order. For friendships, and trust between people. That a group of strangers could work as a team better than the soldiers in his last mission.

‘The General wants to know if you’re planning on continuing your break.’ When Sam had first landed on the island, he presumed he’d survived because it was his skill. That he was born to be nothing more than a solider, aiding a leader in his order.

Now, with Jack’s smile and Meg’s curious gaze, with Cas and Dean both looking up at him like he was something special, Sam knew it was the opposite.

‘Indefinitely.’ Sam replied, not missing the flashed smirk from Dean Winchester, or Castiel’s minor surprise.

**

‘Oh, my boy!’ Dean was quickly smothered by his Mom, arms wrapping around and squeezing tight enough to hurt the bruises he still had. When he winced, she relaxed her grip, studying every inch of his face before pulling him back in.

‘You idgit, you scared us half to death.’ His Mom released him long enough for his Uncle Bobby to pull him in, his Dad ruffling his hair in an awkward show of affection that was appreciated. It was then followed by Ellen pinching his cheek, before Jo slapped his arm, and Charlie launched herself at him. A babbled mess of apologies and reassurances, of affectionate whispers between the two of them that made him grin. If he’d missed one thing, it was his nerdy almost-sister.

Mary was still smiling, tears in her eyes as she scanned his face curiously, before settling for taking his hand. It was a moment he relaxed into, the knowledge that he’d made it back to land.

‘When we heard what happened…’ John gruffed out, before clearing his throat. Bobby rolled his eyes, able to fill in the gaps of what his Dad could never say.

‘We were worried.’ A manly slap on the shoulder, the sound of crying filling the waiting room as Jessica Moore was reunited with her family.

Castiel was surrounded by a group of well-dressed men, the smallest of which was bouncing around like he’d had far too much sugar. Meg was standing with two men, one with oddly yellow eyes, the other embracing her like a sibling would. He should know, Charlie was still at his side like she wanted to embrace him again.

It was a sob that drew his attention, Dean looking across to find Sam with an older looking woman, short hair but a nice-looking blouse. Her eyes filled with tears, body trembling as she slumped, and it did not take a genius to work out that Sam was telling Mrs Tran that her son had not made it.

Jack was hanging back, alone in the centre of the room, and that was all it took to solidify Dean’s idea.

Without hesitation, he moved towards the two of them.

**

Castiel watched as Dean moved to Jack, shooting that signature smirk at the kid, before his face grew sombre as he reached Sam’s side. His father was speaking, something about the business deal and how he was being released from his duties for a while, until he’d recovered, but Castiel was preoccupied.

Without realising, his feet had taken him across to Jack’s side, then to where Dean and Sam were standing side by side.

‘… for your loss.’ Dean finished, and the woman in front smiled softly.

‘Thank you. And Samuel…’ She paused, glancing down to an object seated in her hand, before looking back up to the three of them. Castiel recognised it as Kevin’s wallet, presumed Sam had taken it to give to her. A kind gesture, but Castiel knew that was the kind of man Sam was.

When Mrs Tran had left, the soldier turned to them.

‘Going back to your families?’ The chatter in the room was low enough for the words to travel, Castiel knowing his brothers would be paying attention. After all, it wasn’t often that he made friends.

‘Nope,’ Meg remarked, appearing under his arm and wiggling into the group, ‘Clarence here promised me a drink.’

‘I’m down for a drink. If you’re up for it, Sammy.’ Dean added, Sam blushing at the attention from the man.

‘I…’

‘It would be nice for you to come, Sam.’ Castiel added, surprised by the emotion he laced into the words.

‘God, stop with the pining already.’ Meg joked, nudging Sam’s shoulder as he choked out an agreement to the drinks.

‘Can I come?’ Jack’s input was expected, Sam’s proud smile reappearing.

‘Of course. We’re a team now.’ 


End file.
